Jerome George Valeska
Jerome Valeska “It’s been a year, mom.” He woke up and made his way into the kitchen, craving a glass of soda…something was different, he didn’t get much sleep lately, it was as if someone had kicked him in the head and now there was this one loose wire he had to deal with that was hanging from the top of his skullcap. Jerome couldn’t tell what it was, exactly, but something in him had changed. Maybe it was Blackgate which had been rougher than he liked to admit, maybe it was Jeannie’s sudden return from the dead, maybe it was only because he for once had a good thing going on with Harl, a tiny doubt gnawing on his mind that tried to convince him that people like him didn’t deserve to be happy at all, that they were meant for self destruction and self- manipulation. Even though this was very thin and quiet voice. And barely audible. But it was there, Jerome just found ways to ignore it. ~ …Here want a snack, you hungry you fuckin rat Look at that, it’s a Xanax, take it and take a nap Eat it, but I don’t need it, well fuck it then break it up…~ Shuffling into the kitchen, he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of soda, still so sleepy that he almost didn’t notice the woman sitting at the kitchen-table. Almost. The bottle dropped to the ground and rolled all the way up to her feet. Lila picked it up, gave a small cackle and put it on the table, eyeing Jerome curiously. “Missed me, son?” The redhead rubbed his eyes in disbelief, well aware that he was dreaming, or was he..? He stared at his fingers, rather concentrated, he had read that you would never have ten fingers in a dream if he recalled it correctly; he had read that in some lucid dream book Harl had left at his place, right…? He started to count. One…two.. how was he supposed to tell if he had ten fingers when his mind was telling him that it didn’t matter? “Whatcha doing here…?” He whispered and let his eyes slide over her skinny, pale body, which was covered in crusted blood, scratches and marks. She was wearing her underwear she wore the day Jerome had killed her, and that old worn-out silk robe she had liked so much, even though it was covered in coffee stains and holes, but who could blame her, this thing was probably the only expensive piece she’d ever possessed. “Visitin’, babyboy, it’s been a year…” She snickered and kicked her long, bruised legs up the table, a glass of whiskey in her hand. “Sorry ‘bout that, I thought, hey, he slaughtered you, feel free, you deserve a glass.” Still confused and obviously not sure what to do he took a step closer towards her, looked at the chair opposite her and sat down eventually, as if drawn onto it by magic. “You’ve never asked before, why start now?” “You’re right, never change a running system!” The brunette responded grinning, sluring her words up to a point where only relatives were able to understand. Jerome did, he spoke Lilaish to perfection. “I’m here to warn ya, boy, I know you hate motherly advice, never listened to me back then…why now, huh?” “Warn me? You’re just a figment of mah imagination, a ghost maybe, but I don’t believe in that…so you’re just a bad dream.” “Oh sweetheart, it’s cute…” She rested her chin on her hand and looked up at her son with big, dark eyes, eyes which had seen so much that they just turned into a big, black pool of nothingness. They were pretty once, Jerome could remember, Lila had actually been a pretty girl back then, he admired her…guess the mother is god in the eyes of a child. “You’re talking to your dead momma in the kitchen and you still think you ain’t crazy. It’s almost sad how deluded you are…kinda makes me wanna hug ya. But then again, I’m a little biased.” Jerome leaned a little forward and thinned his eyes out to small slits, his voice as dark as the night, a mere growl. “I’m. Not. Crazy.” Bam. Lila’s fist hit Jerome’s jaw so hard that he almost fell from the chair, he could hold on to the table last minute. “Don’t talk to me like that. I ain’t detective Gordon or your slut of a girlfriend, I am your fuckin’ /mother/, Jerome.” She took a sip from her drink, smiled briefly and sank back in her chair again, her expression cold, yet somehow…fond. ~…..Wait a minute this aint dinner this is paint thinner, You ate it yesterday I aint hear no complaints did I? Now here’s a plate full of pain killers now just wait till I crush the Valium and put it in your potatoes you little mother fucker ill make you sit there and make that retarded fucking face without even tasting it…..~ Jerome on the other hand swallowed as he felt that his mouth was filling with his own blood, and did what Lila said. He turned quiet. Why was it so difficult to speak up against her, even in his dreams? He didn’t want to be that person anymore, he had learnt to hit back, why wasn’t he doing it? Instead, he just sat upright again, rubbing his cheek, sobbing like a lil’ kid. “Oh c'mon, really? Aaaaaaw, is the big boy crying because momma slapped him? Grow a pair, Jerome, you’ve killed dozens of people, you’ve almost died, don’t gimme that shit.” The dead snakedancer chuckled, downded her drink and poured herself yet another glass. “Why did you do that to the Lloyd girl?” Leaning her head back, she gave him a curious look, waving her full glass. “Jeannie, was it? Never liked her, if you ask me, she deserved it. Lloyds. Pah.” She gave a snort, her eyes full of spite. “Bunch of assholes. Anyways, how come you hit her?” “I dunno…” Jerome was still holding his cheek, for some reason intimidated like a toddler who just saw a monster in his bedroom. “She was being rude, mom, she said things…” “Blablablabla, everyone’s saying things, sweetheart, you say things, I say things, I apparently said a lot of things you couldn’t take, you just can’t go and flip your shit if someone does, sometimes you need to suck it up and be a man, you, you are just a coward, someone says something you don’t wanna hear and you murder them…But what do I expect, you popped out of my pussy and the minute I looked at your face I knew that you was going to be a failure. Some things never change.” “I tried to talk to her…” “Bullshit. She’s going to call the cops, sweetheart, you nearly raped her, you almost sliced her up like a turkey, I’ve heard some people don’t like that very much. ” “She would never ever do that.” He shook his head and got up, clenching his fists, yet, he took a few steps back, there was this irrational fear of Lila he couldn’t explain, nor understand in any way. “She loves me.” “Oh.” She giggled and rubbed her lazy, swollen eyes, looking back at Jerome with a mix of pity and amusement. “Oh, kid…nobody loves you. Nobody. Not Jeannie. Not Harleen. The latter is merely a deluded fangirl, she will leave you the minute someone better comes around. Like everyone. Like Barbara did. Even the detective whom you love so much doesn’t give a crap about you, he doesn’t wanna chase you, you’re not his…nemesis or whatever you think you are, Jerome. This ain’t a TV show, there are no heroes or big baddies.” Now her facial expression almost turned blank. “You’re alone, darling. You always have been. You always will be. There ain’t no happy ending for you, you can’t smile away what a failure you are…” “No. This ain’t true.” He held his head and shook it frantically, walking backwards until his back hit the fridge behind him. “Shut up. This ain’t real. You’re not real, you’re lying. You’re dead! Get outta my head.” Lila stood up and slowly walked towards him, until she was so near Jerome could smell her whiskey breath. “You will die, sweetheart, and you will die alone. Wake up, boy.” she said in a sing sang voice and pinched his chest. “Go away!” “What?” She let her finger run down his chest up to his belly button. “Scared mom could do bad bad things to you…?” She pouted her lower lip and looked him in the eye. “I mean it, tho’…wake up.” “Wake up.” … “Jerome. Wake up. You’re dreaming.” Biography Category:The Overview of The Actual TV Character: